


Development Hell

by polche



Series: Everyone Deserves a Second Chance [2]
Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Incredibly Self-Indulgent, M/M, Passive-aggression, Slow Burn, ToS2 Does Not Exist, school setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polche/pseuds/polche
Summary: After being spared by Lloyd, Mithos has to learn how to live in the world he created.





	1. Have You Considered Taking Up A Hobby?

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this on and off for a while now, figured I may as well upload some bits of what I have every now and then. It'll just be entirely self-indulgent short chapters. I genuinely have no idea what to tag this with (though I'm sure it being 2:45 am isn't helping), so if anyone has anything they think needs to be included, let me know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to the situation, starts off not long after the end of the last entry in this series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, headcanons ahoy. Even more so than in Long Exposure, purely because it's a complete diversion from canon events (and also I'm not a fan of what ToS2 did to the lore >.>)

Mithos could have just teleported, but he just can’t resist making an entrance, so he throws open the door and stomps in.

Yuan and Kratos are seated reclining on a bench at a table, in an unremarkable room on Derris-Kharlan, likely used for storage in years before. The scent of metal still clings in the air, and the walls are bleached in perfectly square patterns from the boxes of weapons the room had held once. It still bathes in the same deep purple hue as the rest of the place, but the men had put up drapes and rugs for comfort and color, and even installed a bookcase. It looks domestic now, wholly unlike the military afterthought it had been. Mithos wants to turn his nose up at the sight of it, but he remembers he washed his hands of the whole affair and pretends like he’s unaffected by the omnipresent reminders of his persistent failure. He tucks his chin against his chest, staring straight ahead as he joins his former companions for a cup of _tea_.

He purposely indelicately drags a chair towards the table, making sure its legs scrape the floor, and drops himself into it with all the weight his small, slender body can muster.

The former human pours him a cup and pushes it towards him. Kratos still has trouble looking at him; something about feeling guilty about not being able to stop him and ashamed of his own weakness. Mithos doesn’t care. Everyone has their breaking point, life sucks and you fail. That’s how it goes.

Yuan glares. He always had a sharp look in his eyes, but unlike Kratos, doesn’t blame himself for the mess that happened - even though _certain_ particularly destructive, nigh-calamitous parts most certainly _had_ been his fault - so he doesn’t feel the need to hold back his disappointment in his would-be little brother-in-law anymore, now that all the Katz were out of the bag. Mithos doesn’t care about this either. Yuan would have done the same if he’d loved his sister as much.

“I’m impressed. I was sure you’d have smote anything even tangentially related to the Church by now,” Yuan drawls dispassionately.

“Not my problem anymore,” Mithos says with a shrug, pretending like the thought didn’t cross his mind most days. “ _I_ can hold myself to a promise.” If Yuan thought Mithos would ever let him forget how _he_ almost destroyed Martel as well as both split worlds _and_ any hope of a brighter future, he clearly didn’t know Mithos well enough.

“ _That_ was never the question. The question is how you’re going to grossly misinterpret _this_ promise.”

Mithos is about to bite back with a spiteful comment, maybe a colorful curse, but Kratos interrupts by setting his teacup on its saucer with a decisive clink.

“Mithos. You should drink your tea before it gets cold.”

What is the point? They don’t need to eat or drink, and while they had recovered a sense of taste, Mithos had gotten entirely out of the habit of liking or disliking anything. He rolls his eyes but sets the cup to his lips anyway. It’s still warm, though definitely not hot anymore, and seems to contain some sort of citrus fruit infusion.

“How is it going?” Kratos asks once Mithos’ cup returns to the table.

They'd made an agreement that the three Seraphim would meet up every few months, to discuss progress with the integration process, make sure Mithos was behaving himself, and give him an outlet so he wasn’t stuck alone with his thoughts all the time. Mithos thinks it’s ludicrous, but Genis and Lloyd insisted, and he is still weakened from unleashing his Cruxis Crystal, so he doesn't have much of a choice.

He lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“It’s boring and I feel like we’re wasting time,” he says petulantly. He’d be honest, but that doesn’t mean he has to be pleasant about it. “It’s pissing me off.”

A snort comes from another side of the table. Mithos ignores Yuan.

Kratos’ large hands fully envelop his cup, but he holds it like a lifeline. As if some lukewarm leaf water can salvage any part of this catastrophic atmosphere. Pathetic. “Have you considered taking up a hobby?”

Mithos shrugs. He’d been traveling the new fault lines with Lloyd’s little group since the worlds merged to assist them in helping out those unfortunate people who’d suffered. Earthquakes ravaged where the continental plates split and pushed together as the land fixed itself, and many humans and half-elves lost their homes, belongings or loved ones. It messed with the tides as well, causing flooding in some places and droughts in others, as well as the weather, with the sudden shift in mana unleashing freak storms, heatwaves and cold fronts. The amount of death and devastation hadn’t changed, it just came in another different form. At least he’d been kept busy.

“Lloyd’s making me help out the relief efforts,” Mithos settles on saying.

“It’s the least you could do,” Yuan mumbles into his cup.

“Yes, because _you_ were flying around all over the place after _your_ genius idea nearly destroyed the world. If it’d been up to _me_ -”

“Do you have any ideas for what to do after?” Kratos interrupts sharply, his thick brows low over his eyes. He may not have aged a day in four thousand years but he looks older than Mithos has ever seen him. Clearly, he’s not adapting to his new mediator role well.

Mithos shrugs again and recites the reasoning behind the only logical option in a dull monotone, “You’ll probably want me chaperoned. I don’t think loverboy wants me around expheres anymore and I will definitely end up losing my temper if I have to deal with business economics and politics, so that just leaves the half-elves, doesn’t it? At least I can get Genis to shut up, so I’ll probably go along with whatever he does, for a bit.” He doesn’t even mention Sheena, because Mithos would kill her and then himself before being left alone with the Summoner.

Yuan snorts again and Mithos has to focus his whole being on his teacup to stop himself from lunging over the table and punching him in the face. Kratos merely nods.

“That sounds like a reasonable course of action.”

“Shocking. Are you satisfied now?” Mithos sets his cup down and folds his arms over his chest. “Can I go now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mithos is a salty, salty boy.


	2. You’re The Least Annoying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mithos and Genis talk about their plans for the near future.

Mithos sits next to Genis on the edge of the fountain, both of them with their bare feet in the water. Summer has arrived in Luin, and the water is one of few respites from its searing fangs when the sun is high enough to leave few shadows.

Every so often, Mithos reaches down to pick up a pebble and tosses it lightly at the statue of Lloyd that stands proud as the fountain crown. Genis shoots him a disapproving look every time he does, but also knows it won’t change anything to get mad and keeps his mouth shut.

Mithos stares at him, grabs a rock and throws it without taking his eyes off Genis, a silent challenge in his bright green eyes. The rock bounces off the statue’s knee and lands harmlessly in the water. Genis just rolls his eyes. Sometimes it’s hard to believe just how petty and childish the millennia-old fallen hero-god turned out to really be.

“I can’t believe they made that buffoon a statue,” Mithos says, testing for a stronger reaction.

“Well, unlike some people, he actually made an effort to help people.” Genis can’t help but make a smart comment. His mouth has gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion, and it moves especially quick when Mithos goads him.

“Humans,” Mithos bites coldly.

When Genis glances to the side to look at Mithos, the angel’s face is turned away and all he can see is the delicate curves of his cheek and chin poke out from under his hair, as well as a set of downturned eyelashes. Genis’ cheeks flush with guilt, though he tries to force it down as much as he could. Mithos thought everything he did was to help half-elves like the both of them, but sacrificing everyone else to do it is wrong, no matter what.

“It’s just one town, you can live with it,” Genis mumbles, choosing not to acknowledge the comment. They’d had enough arguments about whether what Lloyd was doing was really helping half-elves or not already.

He swirls the water around with his feet, grateful for its slight chill. He dreads to think what Triet has to be like this time of year; he feels they’re close enough to Efreet’s influence already. His clothes cling to him, uncomfortably tight and wet with sweat. Mithos’ are perfectly dry because of course they are. Angels don’t have to care about pedestrian concepts like heat. Genis’ fluffy mane makes his head overheat, and he has to fight the urge to submerge it in the fountain waters. Mithos would probably make fun of him for that. He’s jealous of Mithos’ hair. It seems so much lighter and manageable than his own, and it frames his face so nicely. Genis shakes his head, both to rid it of unnecessary thoughts and to introduce some fresh air to the skin normally covered by his hair.

“Ugh, I wish Sheena was here... I’d kill for one of Celsius’ popsicles...” he complains to himself.

Mithos stiffens next to him, and Genis mentally kicks himself for forgetting that before Sheena made a pact with her, Mithos had. He wonders if the angel missed the pacts, or if he even had an attachment to the Summon Spirits at all. Sheena had said once that it feels like being in a room with friends all the time, but judging from the Elemental Research Lab, plenty of people didn’t really care much about Summon Spirits for anything other than what they could do - good or bad. And Mithos didn’t seem to have any friends other than Lloyd and Genis himself. Even so, he gets tetchy whenever the subject of summon spirits pops up, so even if it’s just about ownership, he’s clearly sensitive about something.

“You can use magic yourself, idiot.”

“It’s not the same,” Genis mumbles, feeling defeated. He hopes Mithos wouldn’t turn this into another argument.

Mithos draws one of his legs up onto the raised edge and put his arms around it, leaning a cheek on his knee. Curled up like that, he looks so small, not remotely like the shadow overlord controlling the fate of the world which he played for so long.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Genis looks at him, his mind momentarily blank from the unexpected question. Mithos still has his face turned away from him, staring at the ripples their legs make in the water with a calm intensity.

“You could have shown them the flute and saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

Genis had often wondered the same. He’d suspected Mithos wasn’t telling them the whole truth ever since he’d brought up his sister and revealed his temper for the first time. That outburst had a raw honesty to it that the rest of his demeanor didn’t. The elven storyteller confirmed those suspicions, and when Mithos dropped the flute, Genis had proof that Mithos and Yggdrasill were the same person. But Genis didn’t tell his friends, and as a result, Yuan, Altessa and Tabatha had gotten terribly hurt. He still doesn’t know if he made the right choice, but he doesn’t think he could make another one if he had to do it again.

This is worse than if Mithos brought up the Summon Spirits, because at least he has a logical argument for that one, and Mithos respects logic, even if he often disregards it anyway.

“Because we were friends.”

“We weren’t friends, Genis.”

“We were.”

“You’re an idiot,” Mithos’ voice is soft, and he still doesn’t look at Genis.

“We’re still friends.”

“You’re the only one that thinks that.”

Genis thinks Mithos isn’t very good at being honest, and he seems to have some kind of complex about people being important to him, but it made sense, since he had a hard life before. Convincing him of things can only be done if he thinks he held the thought all along, so Genis drops the subject.

“One more round trip,” he says instead.

Mithos turns to him, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Things are starting to calm down, so Lloyd said if people can sort things out by themselves, he’ll start gathering the expheres.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t want to fix up every broken doorpost by himself, goody-two-shoes,” Mithos mumbles under his breath.

Genis ignores him. “What are you going to do?”

“I already told Yuan and Kratos. I’ll follow you. You’re the least annoying.”

Genis wonders how long ago he made these plans, but it doesn’t matter. A small smile creeps onto his lips. It’s a rare occurrence to get a compliment like that from Mithos, and he’s spent enough time around the angel to understand that this was one.

“Whatever it even is that you’re going to do.” Mithos’ subtle way of asking him his own plans.

“Well, they’ve got the Palmacosta Academy back up and running, with a new curriculum as well,” Genis says with a big smile. “Before we started the Regeneration, I always wanted to go, even though it’d be difficult with the money, and if they found out I was a half-elf, and during...  well, you know. So I thought I’d go now.”

He’d looked into Meltokio and Sybak’s schools as well, since he knew Tethe’alla had been more advanced, but with the consolidation of both worlds’ knowledge, that difference had grown smaller, and he couldn’t help his attachment to the school he’d yearned for since he’d learned it existed.

He gives a small chuckle. “I actually took an exam there when we visited...”

“If you got anything less than top marks, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Genis sticks out his tongue. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Mithos stretches like a cat, sticking his slender limbs out at odd angles, then pulls them close again. “I’ve never been to school.”

Genis is about to make a comment about how he’d had plenty of time, but thinks better of it when he remembers what Mithos spent all that time doing. Going to school to learn things he’d intentionally planted in the world would have been more than just a simple waste of time.

It’s still a waste of time, Genis supposes, but at least now he has time to waste. It’ll be interesting to see how Mithos would act around normal kids. And terrifying.

“Just don’t blow it up when you get mad,” Genis says with a jokingly chastising look.

Mithos slides his bright green eyes over to meet Genis’, half-lidded and imperious as always, then narrows them with the shadow of a smile dancing on his lips. “I make no promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love petty Mithos...
> 
> I believe he never properly managed to grow up due to the war and all his various traumas, so despite his age he'd have a lot of catching up to do once he gets the chance to.


	3. I'll Compete With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entrance exams, motivations and forbidden knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Mithos gets owned somewhere in there.

Every academic structure had been uprooted when the worlds merged, and had to be rebuilt from the ground up. For this reason, Genis’ unconditional acceptance to the Palmacosta Academy had been revoked, and he had to take the entrance exam as if he were just any other student.

Mithos scoffed when he heard. “You’d think they’d be clamoring for your take. You were on ground zero for the whole affair,” he said with an air of disinterest as Raine took the boys to their room in the inn.

“Be that as it may, the only method they have of proving the veracity of those claims is the entrance exams, so there’s little to do about it,” Raine mumbled in response.

She didn’t seem to like Mithos, looking down on him with a thicker air of suspicion and guardedness than she did most people. Mithos didn’t like her either. He respected her, for the way she’d raised her little brother all those years, sure, and for how pragmatic she was compared to the idealistic children she traveled with. But she was rude, short-tempered and utterly obsessed. He didn’t care that thinking that made him a hypocrite. Besides, it wasn’t as if he liked himself all that much better.

“I don’t mind. Tests are kind of fun, in a way,” Genis said with an innocent smile.

He took big steps to stay ahead of his sister, while Mithos made sure to keep pace behind her. Raine had already given up reprimanding him for dragging his feet, reminding him that she’s not the one paying for new shoes when he inevitably wore through his soles one last time before she dropped it. In response, Mithos had scuffed his feet on the stones even more than before. He didn’t care about wearing through his shoes. There was something inexplicably safe about feeling what was under his feet, something grounding. Something he hadn’t even realized he missed when he floated all the time.

“What’s so fun about filling out a form?”

Genis turned on one of his feet, walking backwards. He had a big grin on his face.

“You sound just like Lloyd,” he said, and smiled even wider at Mithos’ disgusted expression. “It’s fun to see how much you know, and to improve that, and to see how much better you get, you know?”

“Ah. It’s a competition. I see, you just want to crush everyone else,” Mithos said low, a knowing smile on his face. That, at least, was a motivation he could sympathize with.

“No, dummy.” Genis stumbled over his own feet, catching and righting himself just in time. He turned around again, but slowed his pace slightly to walk closer to Mithos. “It’s about self-improvement. I don’t want to be better than anyone else, just better than the person I was yesterday.”

Judging from how Raine’s fist descended onto Genis’ head and lightly ground its knuckles into his skull, she wasn’t exactly convinced her little brother really was that pure.

“Sis! I mean it!” Genis whined. “Yeah, I do like it when I get to show smug little gits I know more than them, but I didn’t have any of that in Iselia!” He immediately got another fist to the head for being mean.

Mithos chuckled. “I’ll compete with you,” he said, and met Genis’s eyes to emphasize his challenge.

Genis’ bright blue eyes lit up with enthusiasm, and he bared his teeth in a grin. “You just called yourself a smug little git!” he shouted, pointing his finger at Mithos an inch away from his nose, and ran away before Raine could punish him any more.

-

Twenty minutes before the two hours of the entrance exam were up, Mithos had put his pen down. He was confident in his answers, and had already checked them once over. Genis, sitting two rows in front and several to the left, had continued poring over his own test sheets until the last second, and put his own pen down with the other examinees. Until Mithos saw the small, confident smile on the boys lips he couldn't make up his mind whether Genis had been paranoid or merely perfectionistic, and after, he settled on the latter.

Mithos still has faith in his answers when he gets his test back, so he nearly obliterates the sheet when he sees he only got 376 out of 400 right. He glowers at Genis beside him, who is positively beaming - and why shouldn't he, _his_ sheet has the number 400 in big bold script, encircled at the top. When Genis notices Mithos’ sour mood, he looks over, genuinely surprised.

“What’s up?”

“‘What’s up?’” Mithos parrots mockingly as he slams his test sheet on the table in front of them. “This is bullshit!”

Genis gives him a warning look, reminding him that he has a telecommunicator on him and can contact Yuan at all time. Mithos throws his hands up and folds them as he sits back in his chair with a huff. Genis is used to this by now, and just ignores him, choosing instead to slide the paper over to himself, and looks it over for the reason Mithos’ grade is relatively low for what he knows he’s capable of.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbles as he looks over the math portion. He taps one of the red-circled formulas. “This is a mana formula, not a math one.”

Mithos gives him a flat look. “...So?”

“So. They’re different. You know humans can’t just use magic like we do, so they need a different logical base,” Genis says as if talking down to a child.

It rubs Mithos entirely the wrong way. Even without Mithos’ four thousand year advantage, Genis is still only thirteen years old, still a year younger than Mithos was when he became an angel. He’s the one who should be the child.

Mithos huffs. “Mana formulas are better,” he says, having no better retort. At least that explains his lower marks there.

“Well, if it helps, at least what you wrote down is all solid?”

“Of course it is. I wrote it.”

The subtle roll of Genis’ eyes doesn’t escape Mithos’ notice, but he decides to keep his mouth shut about it, because he knows Genis isn’t bluffing about contacting Yuan.

They’d been doing relief work in Sybak, making sure its library and laboratory were spared the worst of the effects of both the earthquake and weather changes. The quakes had passed them by, for the most part, but Tethe’alla’s sudden exposure to Undine’s influence had caused the humidity to spike, threatening the papers and vellum with rot if they couldn’t find a solution.

For the scientists, it had meant sleepless nights over weather control formulas, combing over ways to use Efreet and Undine’s magic in tandem to nullify the excess moisture, and coming up with a highly inefficient magitech dehumidifier. For Sheena, it had been the simple request for Undine, if she could try to keep the books safe. Unfortunately for them, nobody thought to warn Mithos, who had lost himself in a fit of rage at the sight of the Summon Spirit, and attacked the Summoner, shouting at her that she didn’t have the right.

When he came to his senses, he was flat on his back on the ground with his limbs magically restrained and Yuan’s foot on his chest.

“Can you behave now?” Yuan had said with blatant disrespect, peering down his nose at him.

Mithos craned his head away from Yuan, his neck protesting with every degree its angle changed, and spat, spraying blood on the lab carpet. He knew that if he said anything at all, it would come out bitter, and would give Yuan another excuse to rough him up, so he didn’t. He stared at the bloodspatters on the carpet next to him until his heartbeat settled and the adrenaline faded. He was left there the whole time Sheena and Undine did their work, and probably a little longer for good measure, while Yuan stared at him, mana flaring at every little twitch. Mithos had lost his will to fight the moment Sheena was out of sight, his anger replaced with the all-too-familiar emptiness, and all he could feel was pain.

So Mithos keeps his mouth shut, appearing for all intents and purposes thoroughly bored as he watches Genis pore over his test through half-lidded eyes. Eventually Genis reaches the Sylvaranti history part, and he tilts his head and frowns.

“Wait, who’s Queen Helia Nerva?”

Mithos looks at the sheet of paper. “The reigning monarch from 625-628 of the Balacruf Dynasty,” he says, repeating the words on the sheet.

Genis shakes his head. “According to the history books, the Balacruf Dynasty only ever had one queen. Sure, the next monarch was a Nerva, but it’s Gladius Nerva. He ruled from 625 to 644, and was succeeded by his son, Cato Nerva. If you put another ruler in there, no wonder your grade went down so much...”

It’s Mithos’ turn to shake his head. “What nonsense. How else would the crown go from the Valesis family to the Nerva?”

“Isn’t it because Queen Aquila Valesis didn’t have any heirs? So, when she died, the people elected the head of the Nerva family to be their new monarch.”

Mithos let out a bark of laughter. “What a funny tale humans have woven. I’ll bet it was that sniveling maggot Cato... He never could stand the shadow of his aunts’ spotlight.”

“...In all the books Raine has, I don’t think I’ve seen any mention of a Helia...”

Mithos isn’t surprised. Cato was exactly the kind of petty coward who would make everything about himself. He was born when Helia was already Queen-Consort, and knew nothing of a normal life. When his father succeeded the throne, Cato was eager to step into a limelight of his own, and grew increasingly envious when their people loved the former queens more. He must have at least left anything involving the Church alone, otherwise Mithos' angels would have caught him. He sighs. Politics always have and always will be a nightmare.

“You’re sure about this?” Genis still doesn’t seem convinced, although he’s likely just missing a piece of the puzzle. “I don’t get it. Even if Helia ruled at the beginning of Gladius’ reign, there’s still no reason why...”

It’s hilarious how Genis will pass up an obvious solution just because he doesn’t think it possible. That kind of naivety is almost cute. Almost. Looks like Mithos is going to have to teach him a thing or two again.

“The two families were joined, Genis.”

“But Aquila never married?”

“She never married a _man_.”

Genis eyebrows raise into his fringe and his expression details crystal clear how he never considered another option.

“...So Helia... Wait, she could _do_ that?”

Mithos shrugs. “She sought the Church’s approval, and since the marriage was politically sound, we allowed it.” The compatibility of men and women never ranked highly in his mind, as long as they could be used to further his plans.

He hears Genis’ breath catch in his throat, and the boy seems to have completely forgotten about Mithos’ test as he takes Mithos’ hands in his own as if no betrayal had ever taken place. His eyes are wide and Mithos swears they’re sparkling. The only thing brighter is the smile on his face. It’s blinding, and if Mithos weren’t so stubborn, he’d have turned away.

“I can't imagine what else didn't make it into the history books... Please tell me everything you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I decided to do this chapter with flashbacks, but I did.
> 
> Oh Mithos... The history rewriter has become the... that's not right, is it?


	4. Violence Solves Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genis gets suspended for getting into a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just trust me.

It's no more than two weeks into the semester when Raine and Yuan are called into the headmistress' office. The woman herself awaits them, sitting calmly authoritative at her desk, opposite Genis and Mithos. Genis is curled in on himself, gripping at his trousers with white-knuckled fists, while Mithos sits almost relaxed, as if the event is merely an inconvenient formality.

"Miss Sage, mister Ka-Fai. I'm very sorry to have summoned you. Please, take a seat."

Both of them nod and sit down beside their respective wards. "What did he do?" Yuan grumbles long-sufferingly as soon as his ass hits the chair, to which Mithos lets out a scoff.

The headmistress glances at Mithos for a brief moment, then shakes her head. "Ah, I may have given you the wrong idea. While young Mithos _was_ involved, he did not participate in the fight."

"The _fight_?" Raine interjects. Genis flinches at her tone. Her head snaps to the side so she can look at her little brother with wide eyes filled with both concern and warning.

Genis folds in on himself tighter then straightens out like an elastic band being released. "Sis, I know it looks bad, but he was saying these _awful_ things; I couldn't just do nothing!" His eyes are big and pleading as he looks at her. With his head no longer down, a cut on his brow where he'd been punched reveals itself from under his bangs.

Mithos sighs and rolls his eyes. "He was only saying the same old things we've been hearing for forever, who even cares?"

That's finally something that gets Yuan's notice, and he exchanges a glance with Raine before turning back to the headmistress, giving her a questioning look. It's a testament to her composure that the combined force of both Raine and Yuan's stern looks demanding her explanation doesn't send her running. Instead, she just sighs.

"Yes, the alleged cause for the incident was a racially insensitive comment a student made."

"Little Timmy noticed I have the same name as that twat that ruined everything for half-elves forever and kindly decided to point it out, and suggested we should just kill ourselves to save the world the trouble," Mithos explained with a lack of concern in his voice. "I've heard worse."

"But he still can't just _say_ things like that!" Genis grits his teeth as he stares a hole into the floor at his feet. "We didn't work this hard just to..." He chokes back the rest of his sentence with a groan. "He doesn't even know - He _can't_ just be allowed to _say_ things like that!"

"This is why I summoned you: the nature of the incident." The headmistress laces her fingers together on the desk in front of her and addresses Raine specifically. "Normally, I would end this matter by giving young Genis a two-week suspension and send him and his homework home to you for the duration, since we cannot allow violence on this campus. However, when I took this position, I vowed to uphold the safety of all my students, so I must acknowledge the unique struggles half-elves like yourselves face." Her laced fingers squeeze together tightly, a small gesture she might not even realize she's making. She addresses Yuan next. "I understand that the situation in Tethe'alla has been especially grave, but of course it still needs to be understood that here in Sylvarant, even in the best areas, the Desian influence has been most dire. It's a complex situation with no simple solutions." Her hand doesn't reach for a locket of some sort, nor do her eyes dart to another keepsake, so the headmistress herself at least hasn't lost someone close to a Ranch. Or, if she has, it's an old wound that has closed over.

Mithos' legal story is that he and Yuan are from Tethe'alla, and that Yuan adopted him after his parents were no longer able to take care of him, which is the truth, give or take a few thousand years. It gives Mithos the new surname Ka-Fai, a symbol of his death and rebirth, with his past memorialized in the name of the new Great Tree.

Yuan's face is blank. All their faces are blank, except for Genis', who is still seething at the injustice. The rest of them are too old not to realize that admitting they have an emotional stake in how this matter is resolved would be considered an admission of the inferiority of their side.

"I have spoken with the young Timothy and his parents as well, and I would like to invite the both of you to a meeting with the both of them, so that we may discuss a suitable solution," the headmistress continues. "For now, I would like to suggest that I do suspend Genis for the two weeks, but allow him to remain at the academy, and I suspend Timothy as well, but for a single week with the same allowance. Both of them have made mistakes, and it is my hope that with these consequences the both of them will realize that, and make those mistakes no more."

Raine and Yuan concede to this, and after Raine wrings an apology out of Genis, the four of them are excused.

Genis bolts out, unable to stand the atmosphere and the idea of him having done something wrong for another moment. The rest follows at a calmer pace, although Yuan takes off in large strides as soon as he's out of the office. He doesn't say a word to Mithos as he walks off, and the only acknowledgement he gives any of the other is in that he puts his hand on Genis' head as he passes the boy. Raine watches him leave with her mouth pressed into a thin line, visibly disapproving of everything that gesture, as well as him leaving, means.

She accompanies the boys to their shared dorm room under a thick blanket of tense silence, and after she closes the door behind her, having been the last of the three of them to enter, she smacks Genis on the head.

" _What were you thinking?_ " she hisses at him.

Mithos perches himself on his bed and stretches his legs to their full, unimpressive length. "Exactly what you and Lloyd taught him: Violence solves _everything_ ," he says with an empty smile. "Pity he wasn't wearing his exphere."

Raine ignores him, snaps her fingers to make sure Genis is paying attention to her. "This will not happen again," she tells him. "I will take you out of this school, and send Mithos to help Lloyd and the Chosen. You're much too smart to solve your problems this way." Her voice softens towards the end, and she takes her brother by his cheeks and pulls him into a hug. "Don't ruin this for yourself, Genis."

When she leaves the room, Genis collapses onto his bed with a groan. He lets his arms lie where they fall, ending up in a loose star shape, and stares at the ceiling. Mithos looks at him from behind a curtain of his hair, casually curled up with an arm resting on a raised knee.

"You're lucky, Genis," he says softly, allowing his envy to seep into his words. "Back in my day you would get executed or worse for raising your hand to a human."

Without moving his head, Genis looks to the side where Mithos is, unable to see much of him in his periphery until Mithos stands up beside his bed, looking down at him. There's an unreadable lack of emotion on his face, a blank mask that hides thousands of years of injustice.

"You should appreciate that thin skin of yours." Mithos reaches out to touch Genis' face, lightly runs his finger over the graze over his eyebrow.

Genis' breath stalls in his throat, his eyes widen and flit towards Mithos to determine his motives, but Mithos is staring past the closed door at Raine's afterimage.

"It wasn't long ago that we couldn't afford it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I have the chapter following one of the two's perspective on the matter, but for this one that just... didn't really happen? I suppose it's closer to Mithos, but honestly not by much. Ah well, this is a work of pure indulgence, so I'm not going to sweat it.
> 
> I imagine Mithos wouldn't really know how to feel if Genis stood up for him like that. Happy in some way, that someone actually would choose his side; sad that he's still on the side being discriminated against despite all his work; and pissed the hell off that Genis gets so much less crap for it than he would have gotten. Most of that is influenced by how bitter he is, but I think it's also something of a natural reaction, kind of like "why couldn't _I_ have that?". I hope that came across.
> 
> Please let me know if I'm dealing with matters of racial discrimination poorly, as I'm not a member of a racial minority, and as such wouldn't know the full extent of what's what with that.


	5. Like I Need Your Help With That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genis pokes his nose into Mithos' stuff.

In the boring absence of class during his suspension Genis skims Mithos' open notebook, glancing at the complex formulas on the page. He thinks he recognizes a few, notices the combination of elements to be the same as Colette’s new mana type. A lot of it is definitely still beyond him, but what he does understand is amazing. Mithos really is a genius.

There's one formula that deals with a periodical release of some combination of mana, along the vein of an Undine spritzer but infinitely more complicated, and while Mithos had made notes of calculations around it, he seemed to be unable to figure out how to initiate the progress.

Unable to resist, Genis picks up the notebook and sits on his bed with it. He thought he might be able to use some of Mithos’ notes for his homework, but this is so much more interesting.

Most of the calculations and notes are unfinished and poorly annotated, and Genis has to complete them to understand why they wouldn’t work - too much mana concentrated in one place; elements neutralizing each other; infinite loop; requires the caster to be a Summoner. Mithos can spot where the formulas break down at a much earlier stage, and Genis might not be on his level yet, but he has full confidence he’ll get there with time and practice, and he flushes with pride at the idea.

He tries to solve some of the blanks in the formulas himself, most of his attempts similarly failures, but when he takes inspiration from some of his sister’s healing techniques, it's as if something clicks. If he reverses this process, changes this and that, adds timers for different sections of the spell…

It's only when he finishes filling in the missing piece of the formula that he realizes he’d been writing in Mithos’ notebook. He chuckles drily to himself and gingerly puts the notebook back where he’d found it.

He can only hope Mithos wouldn’t be too mad.

-

Mithos grabs his notebook when he comes in, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. At first he has his usual half-lidded, bored expression on his face as he leafs through it, but it quickly changes to something unreadable when he notices Genis’ work. 

He stares bug-eyed at the new notes, mumbling as he checks them in his head, then slowly turns to face Genis, who sits nervously on his own bed, knees drawn up to his chest. The movement reminds Genis of something he’d seen in a magitech projection in Altamira called a "horror movie", back when the worlds were still split. He hadn’t slept well for days, and Zelos laughed at him, which had been the worst part.

“Did you do this?” he asks in that monotone voice that betrayed no emotion, which usually meant things were about to go south. South pole south.

It wouldn’t do to lie. Mithos knows Genis’ handwriting and, Genis suspects based on comments Mithos made, his signature way of constructing mana formulas.

“Yeah?”

Mithos looks down at the notebook again and shook his head. “It’s good,” he said breathlessly. “I didn’t think - it needs refinement, of course, but it’ll work...”

Genis curls up into a tighter ball on the bed, and he hopes his bangs do a well enough job at covering up his red face. Somehow this is worse than getting yelled at, because then at least he could snip back. He doesn’t know how to react to genuine praise from Mithos of all people.

“Tell me how you did it and I’ll let you look at the rest,” Mithos says, suddenly close. He drops himself on Genis’ bed and elbows his legs so he’d unfurl.

“Only if you explain what they’re for,” Genis says muffled into his knees. “I’m not going to help you make some sort of weapon of mass destruction.” It's easier than to admit he was just curious.

“Like I need your help with that,” Mithos says with a low, breathy laugh.

Genis stretches out before crossing his legs, leaning into Mithos to see the notebook in his lap, eager to find out what other beautiful formulas Mithos hides in his notebook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil chapter, setting up stuff and showing interactions.
> 
> From here on out my work becomes a little more disjointed so updates will come less frequently since I need to work it all out, add chapters in between, etc.
> 
> I also really need to stop being awake and updating at four in the morning (but videogames are so enticing....)


	6. His Best Sleep-Deprived Death Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mithos is rude to a girl who just wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone

Existence in between the minor goals Mithos set himself on a day-to-day basis is dull and seems to stretch almost infinitely long, now that he has the time and the presence of mind to experience it. His time in classes is spent primarily keeping himself quiet, staying on top of work and observing his classmates, keeping track of the current state of the world. The emergence of larger governing bodies in Luin, Asgard and Triet; their communication with the king in Meltokio. Rumors of envoys from Heimdall which, should they be true, hint that maybe those stubborn fools have finally learned that ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away. Those are the more interesting rumors. They're also in the vast minority. Most of the talk is about which classmate interacted most recently with which other classmates in what way, which mostly informs Mithos on which people to stay the hell away from.

His time out of classes is even more intolerable, because the tenuously useful knowledge he can obtain during lectures - how the truth has become warped over time - is entirely absent during the breaks, leaving him to suffer his classmates' shallow conversations without anything even infinitesimally more interesting to actually engage with. And he can't just run back to the only person he can rely on for a somewhat intelligent discussion every time he gets bored, because that would be pathetic and he's  _ not _ that desperate to spend even more time around Genis.

On top of that, because of his misleading looks, his classmates insist on "getting to know him". He's trying so hard not get another ass-kicking from Yuan, so he can't exactly show them why they shouldn't, either. 

It ends up being Kratos' stupid insistence on having his infantile tea parties every single meeting that eventually gives him the idea that if only he keeps a cup of something to his mouth at all time, people will understand he's not available for talking. As a result, he ends up spending most of his free time in the cafeteria queue, and gets quite familiar with the taste of coffee.

The downside is that while he hasn't ordered yet, he doesn't yet repel conversation. It's during a long wait before a morning class, when everyone's still desperate for a dose of caffeine to keep them alert while the teachers drone on, that someone makes the mistake of saying hi.

Mithos puts on his best sleep-deprived death stare to glare at the unwelcome stranger, in the hope she gets the message, but all she does is give a sheepish smile and averts her eyes without moving away.

"Sorry... I understand, it's early, but I just... It's not often I see you without your friend," she stammers, and grips the hem of her shirt. "Your name is Mithos, isn't it?"

"What's it to you?" Mithos growls, which has less effect than intended, because his body is still that of a child, with a high, unbroken voice, a face that hasn't lost its roundness yet, and he has to look up to the annoying stranger who towers over him by about half a head. At least  _ that _ won't be a problem for too much longer, thanks to that formula Genis had some suggestions for.

"Oh, um. I just, wanted to say that, I'm sorry."

Mithos braces himself. The stranger seems to be a human girl, mid-teens, with utterly unremarkable features. She has the air of someone who's come from the sticks, a small, close-knit village, meaning she's either from Sylvarant or one of the backwoods towns in Tethe'alla. Either way, her apology is likely to be about how she always mistook half-elves for violent savages, and how she'll try better to be more accepting and that tripe. It'll last only until the next time someone in power needs a convenient scapegoat.

"It must be hard to be named after someone who betrayed people like that... But, that wasn't you, so. Um, if you need anyone to talk to..."

Mithos raises a single eyebrow. Sure, that fight that got Genis suspended was caused by someone taking issue with his name, but at the same time it's just a name. It's not his name that got him run out of Heimdall and numerous nameless cities after. It's not his name that causes humans and elves both to recoil at the sight of his mana, and it's not his name that left him with no other option but to wipe the entire slate clean. Not to mention that in this case, it  _ was _ him, so if people are going to give him shit for what Mithos Yggdrasill did, Mithos Ka-Fai deserves to bear it.

"I'm fine."

The queue moves agonizingly slow and he can't get away from this girl without leaving it, which he's entirely too stubborn to do. So he stands his ground, shuffling ever closer to the relief of taking his drink and getting out of this hellish conversation.

"Just think about it, ok? I'm Dorrthy," she says, resolutely but quietly, and something about that name rings a bell.

Mithos runs through four thousand years of names for a second before realizing he doesn't actually care. "Dorrthy...?" he mumbles, hoping the girl will give him the reason he recognizes that name.

"Oh, yeah, um. After the uh, previous governor-general. Obviously before the whole... mess."

It takes a moment longer but then he remembers. Dorr. That maggot Magnius used to boast about bleeding dry. That makes sense. Mithos doesn't know the whole story - that might be something to make Genis tell him sometime - but from what he did gather, it's a beautiful example of humans' blind selfishness. A man will sell out the people he's sworn to protect for nothing more than the empty promise of restoring something obviously lost.

"So you have personal experience, is what you're trying to say."

Dorrthy nods. She opens her mouth when the person ahead of them in the queue finishes ordering and the barista gestures for the next customer. Mithos raises a finger to the girl and requests his usual, a large cup full of the most concentrated caffeine brew they have, in the hopes that enough can bypass his angelic physiology to actually have any minor effect at all. He hasn't been successful so far, but there's something about the bitterness on his tongue that feels somehow right anyway, so he keeps trying.

When he's moved to the pick-up queue, he finds the girl following him, the hopeful desire for some sort of connection still blatant on her round face. Mithos gives her his most imperious expression, jaw tight and hooded eyes leering at her as if she were a target begging to be destroyed.

"I don't need your help. I don't need your pity. And I don't need your friendship," he spits. Her face pales, her eyes widen, and she takes a step back in surprise. She shouldn't be so shocked; he's made no secret of his acerbic nature at any point. "Whether you extend your hand out of a misguided sense of camaraderie or an even more mistaken sense of superiority, know that I don't need or want it. If other people try to bury me in a pit because of my name, or my race, or anything, I'll use my own damn hands to claw myself out." As if he has any choice. As if he would accept any kind of help from a human. Humans can't be trusted.

Another barista places his coffee on the counter, leaving Dorrthy no time to recover and react. Mithos isn't about to allow her any either. He grabs the cup and walks off, sparing the entire cafeteria neither glance nor thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...How many of my fics involve coffee in some form? I think I have a problem... (the problem is that coffee is too delicious)


	7. He Doesn't Begrudge Mithos the Attention, Probably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mithos finds a gift in his locker.
> 
> Alternate title: "Compulsory Heterosexuality Is A Hell Of A Drug"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have some audience participation here, if anyone's interested! Nothing big, just something fun for fans of the Tales series. Be sure to check the end note after you finish the chapter for details!

Mithos finds a foreign object in his locker when he opens it to change into his school shoes. He glares at it, picks it up by a corner and turns it around to observe it more closely, sending Genis into a fit of giggles. If it was anything else, Genis probably wouldn’t have laughed, but the object is a simple letter, and its intent couldn’t have been more clear. Mithos turns his glare on Genis, the coals of the cold rage that burns permanently in his eyes smoldering dangerously. Genis holds up his hands and shrugs with the intent that he meant no harm.

Mithos scoffs as he tears the envelope and unfolds the paper inside. From what little Genis can see at this angle, Mithos' secret admirer wrote to him in large, beautiful calligraphy strokes, suggesting she must have at least put a lot of effort into her note.

“Lucky...” Genis mumbles into his own locker.

Mithos gives a disparaging sniff, his button nose scrunching up in a clear display of disgust. It confuses Genis for a moment, how an admission of admiration could evoke such a reaction, but of course Mithos isn't just anyone.

"She's not human, is she?" he asks carefully, hoping not to poke too hard too fast but unable to contain his curiosity.

He'd expected Mithos to be staring at the paper with enough fury to burn a hole, but when Mithos tears his gaze away from it, his eyes are deep and dangerous, but clouded over like a bog. Something in his look reminds Genis of the scraped and scorched boy they found in the ruins of Ozette who couldn't believe that a group of humans would voluntarily travel with half-elves open about their identity.

"It's unsigned," Mithos says with a bored drawl, and Genis snaps back to the present. "But I'd wager it's a half-elf. She wants to meet in front of the lighthouse." He rolls his eyes as he fans himself with the letter, despite the sting of winter still hanging in the air.

Genis leans in, attempting to steal a peek at the letter, but Mithos stuffs it carelessly into the pocket of his uniform shorts, crumpling it in the process. Mithos doesn't let on he's aware of Genis' actions, but he's always sharper than he seems, and Genis' cheeks flush with embarrassment despite himself anyway.

"So, are you gonna go?" Genis asks in an attempt to deflect, to place the attention on anything other than himself.

Mithos shrugs. "Probably."

A flurry of feelings and thoughts rush into Genis' head. Concern, interest, surprise. Suspicion. Was Mithos going to use the girl, since there was no way he actually liked her? What kind of girl would it be, and what had she written? What would Mithos do? Genis tried to squash the most bitter feelings of distrust down as best he could, after all, Mithos wouldn't risk getting Yuan called down again so soon, and he said he was done with messing with people. He had to give Mithos at least that much trust, otherwise he'd be nothing more than a hypocrite, and then what would he tell Lloyd?

Genis realizes he'd just been standing there staring at the ground for who knows how long, so he takes his school shoes and stuffs his feet into them.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Mithos has to understand that's a request for clarification, but refuses to give Genis the satisfaction of getting it. Genis just shakes his head as he puts his outside shoes into his locker. He understands, to a certain extent, that it's Mithos' little rebellion, but it's frustrating nonetheless.

"What are you gonna do?"

He tries his best to leave his ugliest suspicions out of his voice, but he also understands that if anyone would pick up on the slightest negativity, it'd be Mithos, so he's not too surprised when the angel flashes him a thin, venomous smile like only he can.

"Reject her, of course. A pathetic shallow infatuation like this should be nipped in the bud."

Genis smiles and gives an exasperated sigh. Mithos and Lloyd really aren't too different from each other in some respects. They're both impossibly stubborn, and even though they're idiots, Genis genuinely believes that both of them want the best for everyone. Mithos, for all that he's become jaded and cold, did the bad things he did out of the goodness of his heart.

The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. "...Do you think someday you'll find a girl who  _ can _ like you properly?" He really can't help himself.

Mithos stares at him without expression, a look that reminds Genis of his sister when Lloyd asks one of his  _ unique _ questions in her classes, drops his school shoes on the floor and shuts his locker without breaking eye contact. It's not until after Genis mumbles a hasty apology that Mithos allows him a reprieve, and even then it's by shoving his feet into the slippers and stomping off to their next lesson.

Which is awkward, to say the least. Now that he's aware that someone's interested in Mithos, even if he knows she doesn't know he's _the_ Mithos, he can't help but wonder who it could be, and he's not sure if it's just his imagination, but there are too many pairs of eyes that linger just a little too long to know for sure who it could be. It has to be a classmate, after all. Mithos doesn't socialize, and surely no one would approach someone by looks alone?

He knows his sister would probably be mad if she knew he wasn't paying attention (for once), but the game of deduction he's playing is simply more interesting than the contemporary history lesson he's having to sit through.

Near the end of the class, he's narrowed his list of suspects down to three. He crossed the loud Desian-born half-elf with the mismatched socks at the front of the class off first, since she seemed like she'd just tell Mithos straight up. The human girl with the flower clips on the same row as Mithos went next when Genis realized the name she was writing in her notebook as she fawned his way actually belonged to the boy sitting on the other side of him. That leaves him with the shy girl in the seat next to him who's never seen without her stuffed toy, who he can see practicing introductions to herself and stare longingly at the blonde hair in front of them both; the girl in the hat who sits by the window who keeps finding excuses to interact with him and doesn't seem to notice or care that he's getting increasingly shorter with her; and the girl from Asgard with the big ponytail who can be found leering at him with an intensity that could rival Zelos, except that she actually seems somewhat embarrassed when she catches herself. All three half-elves.

It's frustrating, in a way. He doesn't begrudge Mithos the attention, probably, and he understands why girls would be interested in him, if they haven't known him long. He is very pretty, for a boy; probably the smartest person Genis ever met; and when he bothers to put the effort in he can be very charismatic. Of course, they wouldn't know the venom in his pleasantries, that he hasn't smiled for real in probably hundreds of years, or the white-hot rage he keeps caged inside that small body of his.

He hopes the one who wrote the letter isn't the shy girl next to him. She deserves someone nice and patient, a gentleman, someone like Regal, maybe. And the girl with the hat would just get on Mithos' nerves, so for both their sakes, he hopes it's not her either. But then he can't see Mithos getting along with the girl with the ponytail either; she seems better for someone like Zelos.

In the end, Genis concludes Mithos is probably too difficult for any of them, and slides down in his chair with a sigh. Somehow he finds he's not too upset on Mithos' behalf. He does think Mithos deserves someone nice, so it's probably just jealousy because he's not getting any attention, even though he understands completely and, if given the choice between Mithos and himself, he'd probably pick Mithos too. Especially since  _ he _ already managed to get himself suspended in the first couple weeks of school.

Life really isn't fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't actually decided who wrote the letter, so if anyone wants to put a vote in for someone, please do! It won't affect too much other than who gets a little attention next chapter, since Mithos isn't lying and he's going to crush the girl's heart in his tiny prepubescent fist, but at least someone will have noticed her?
> 
> The school is based on a mix of what we saw in the game and standard Japanese schools, hence changing their shoes, and some kind of vocational system. Genis and Mithos are taking magic-focused classes, which is why they're in a classroom full of half-elves.
> 
> And because y'all know I love to reference...  
> The loud desian-born half-elf with the mismatched socks is Rita Mordio from Vesperia,  
> The human with the flower hair clips is Marta Lualdi from Dawn of the New World,  
> The shy girl with the stuffed toy is Elize Lutus from Xillia,  
> The girl in the hat near the window is Alice, also from Dawn of the New World, and  
> The girl from Asgard with the big ponytail is Arche Klein from Phantasia.


	8. Never Even Stood A Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mithos uses the "my mom says no" excuse to avoid having to hang out with a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a very naughty potato, updating this in college, so don't tell my tutors.
> 
> I'm quite surprised at how long this turned out to be! But splitting it up anywhere wouldn't have been right, so you're in for a treat!

Twilight bleeds Derris-Kharlan's pinks and purples into the clouds and the ocean breeze carries the smell of salt and the sound of gulls in the distance. It's an undeniably nice evening, but Mithos nevertheless allows his features to scrunch themselves up in a display of distaste as he scuffs his feet down the path towards the lighthouse. Pretending to be any more pleasant than he feels would only do him a disservice, after all.

A girl is waiting by the door, the one with the ponytail, having changed out of her uniform into a unique combination of Asgardian ceremonial wear and Sylvarant's sad excuse for contemporary fashion. Mithos didn't bother. He doesn't want to impress. Her gaze is fixed skywards as she hops from one leg to another in anticipation.

He's noticed her in class, which is to say that she annoys him. She's loud like the other one, but without the intelligence to mitigate it. Her spellwork is fast and messy, estimations and guesswork as opposed to proper calculations, and there's something in her voice that grates at him like a missing variable in a formula. He's decided he hates her.

Genis has been following him at a distance for some time now, light footsteps only audible to his superior ears, though Mithos would have assumed his presence even if he hadn't heard anything. The interest that boy showed in his love life would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic. When Mithos had been his age, _he'd_ had the self-awareness to recognize his feelings for what they were, before thousands of years of betrayal had deadened him to the sort.

Mithos slips his hands into his pockets as he approaches. The girl at last looks towards the path, likely finally having heard him, and she looks surprised for a moment before her face breaks out in a beaming smile. An expression of contempt flashes across his face, gone before she can realize it was there. His appearance shouldn't be met with an expression like that. It's wrong, a shadow of a better time, of a time when he was a better person.

He squashes the feeling. "So," he says with a thick air of disinterest, leaving the word hanging between them.

Eventually, the girl realizes he was done speaking, and nods. She folds her arms behind her head and takes a bouncy step towards him. "Ha, you know, I wasn't sure you'd come!"

Mithos shrugs. "Had to make the message loud and clear."

"Ahh, so it's a no after all," the girl says. She sighs, but her smile remains in place. "Oh well, worth a shot, right?" She punctuates her words with gestures, never completely staying still. It could be a sign of nerves, but she taps her foot in class a lot too, so Mithos figures she's just a very kinetic person.

"You don't even know me."

Mithos turns on one foot, ready to put an end to this farce, when the girl speaks again. "Well, yeah. But that's what dating is, isn't it? Getting to know each other? It's not like we're gonna be stuck forever if you say yes."

He finds he can't take another step, his feet feeling as though they've rooted themselves in place. "That's ridiculous." Courtship was part of the mating ritual; to date someone just to get to know them better had to be the stupidest idea he'd ever heard.

"Is it? I dunno." She's quiet for a bit, the light rustling of her hair and clothes in her perpetual motion the only sign she's still there. It doesn't last. "Oh, do you already have a girlfriend? Is that why?"

Mithos whips around, slamming his feet on the ground. His fists have balled themselves up, and no longer in his pockets, either. "Of course not. I have no use nor want for one." He takes a heavy, menacing step towards her, to which she responds by merely tilting her head. "I'm not interested in you. I'm the very opposite of interested in you, and in anyone else, for that matter," he sneers. He realizes he might be letting his emotions get the better of him, but the words pour out of his mouth anyway, now that he has no greater goal to keep them locked up for. "I'm only _tolerating_ you while I'm _stuck_ in this place. I'm _enduring_ you. I don't _want_ to get to know you, I just want to be left _alone_."

During his rant, he's gotten closer, and when he's finally finished, he finds himself face-to-face with the girl. She's finally dropped that annoying grin, but what she replaced it with is even worse.

"...Not that I don't get it, but that's really sad."

_Pity_.

Mithos bristles, his teeth threatening to crush one another from how hard he clenches his jaw. Half his mind begs him, demands he incinerates this girl, but the other, the rational one, reminds him of Genis' presence. He keeps control of his hands and the flow of mana around him, to stop them both from taking the girl by the throat.

"Hey." The girl grabs his wrist, tugs at his ability to restrain himself. "Let's go up," she says, gesturing at the lighthouse. "It's a nice view."

"It's locked," Mithos manages to spit out, having at least remembered that much even with most of his cognitive functions focused solely on preventing a murder.

"Um. No, it's not?" It's the worst lie he's ever heard, and the list is _long_.

But the door opens. And she goes through, pulling him along up the stairs. If he trusted himself not to fling her halfway across the sea, he would have wrested himself free. Even that realization fills him with a white hot rage. The idea that he, who used to be in control of the _worlds_ , is no longer even in full control of his own body. This really is a fate worse than death.

A stiff breeze slaps him in the face. In the tunnel vision of his anger, the girl lead him all the way up to the beacon. She's let him go and perched herself onto a rickety railing, facing the wind. Past her, the glittering azure of the sea stretches to the horizon where it blends with the blue of the sky, a vast field of subtle movement. The bright monochrome is hypnotic, the size of it grounding, as if he's the only one there at the edge of the world; the sort of experience usually only available to those with a Rheaird. She'd been right about the view.

"I won't catch you if you fall," he says instead.

She just laughs and leans further out of the building, eyes closed as the wind caresses her. "I'll be fine, I used to do this sort of thing all the time at home!"

Something clicks. The view; the wind; the height. Her movements; her strange fashion; her voice. Home. A collection of seemingly unrelated facts suddenly appear like puzzle pieces, and he's able to slot them together.

"You're not really from Asgard, are you?"

She leans back inside and looks at him.

"I've heard there's a city in the sky, a haven for half-elves. It floats over the ocean most of the time, but if you go to the highest mountains, it will come." It was a rumor he spread himself through Cruxis agents every time the mana flow changed. The declining world would have Desians as a place for half-elves, and the flourishing world would have Exire. "That's where you're from, isn't it?"

Her eyes are wide and sparkle with what's probably admiration. "Yeah! They told me not to tell, just in case, but you're a fellow half-elf, so that's probably fine." She hops off the guard rail and bounds towards him again. "Oh yeah, you're from Tethe'alla too, so you would know about that, huh? But still, wow! No wonder you're top of the class!"

She chirps on for a bit about how smart and talented Mithos is, which he ignores because he already knew, and because it's probably only because of who he is that he was able to figure it out from the scant available clues. Still, it explains a bit why she's so upbeat compared to the more subdued rest of the half-elves in the class.

Exire was supposed to be an escape from the oppression below, a place only for half-elves, where they could belong. For that reason, other than its flight path and dimensional location, he left it alone. He'd put Maxwell in charge of protecting it from those that would do it harm, so even if a human army were to storm it on one of its stops, it would be remain secure. To live in that kind of safety, to know there was a place for you with kindred spirits free from the malice that ruled the ground, must have been heavenly.

"I dunno about heavenly myself, but maybe compared to what below was before..." the girl mumbles, and Mithos realizes he must have mused out loud.

He knows she's talking about recently, but he only has his own experience of childhood. A wandering existence, often not knowing if they'd be able to eat or sleep under cover, the stares, the jeers, the violence. Feeling like the air was being slowly squeezed out of his lungs until there was nothing left. His sister being the only warmth in the entire world. "...Hell."

The girl nods. "Yeah, I guess a lot of older folk in the city feel the same. I guess they wouldn't be there if they didn't."

"We had no rights," Mithos mumbles, lost in his memories. "No matter what happened, we were at fault. A human could have us imprisoned or worse with little to no justification. We were used as meat shields in wars; canaries in mines; lab rats in torturous experiments. Our lives had no value. We weren't elves, and we weren't human, so we weren't people." His palms had started bleeding from how hard he's clenching his fists, but he doesn't notice. "We were tools, pets, animals." A hollow chuckle escapes his mouth. "They branded us like cattle. They _killed_ my _sister_ for no reason at all."

He's faintly aware of a weight landing on his shoulders, but it's enough to ground him again, allowing the void inside him to once more swallow the impotent rage he feels at the injustice.

"I'm really sorry to hear that," the girl says with a gravity he didn't know she possessed.

He shrugs her hand off his shoulders and heads for the railing to put distance between them. She follows him, leaning heavily and letting her arms dangle over the other side in an attempt to look relaxed, but her eyes flit towards him with every twitch of his body. He's fallen from greater heights and been none the worse for it, but of course she doesn't know that, and there's no chance he'll ever volunteer the information himself, so he accepts, for now, that the only distance he'll get is emotional.

"I guess that explains a little about the mood most of the time... I mean, it's not like it's all depressing and stuff, but..." Her legs are crossed and she taps the toes of one foot on the ground. "...Well, no, it is. But knowing there's people like just you being treated that bad, I can understand it."

Suddenly she straightens up, puts her hands around the guard rail and swings from side to side. "Oh, but it's not all doom and gloom! Every time we land, we hold a festival to thank Maxwell for keeping us safe. The entire city gets together, and we decorate the place with colored lights and banners, and then we all eat sweet foods and dance in the main plaza! It's my favorite time of the year!" Her entire face brightens obviously enough for Mithos to see even from the corner of his eyes. "And then we all take a light and go across the bridge to the tablet as we sing a song of praise. The song is kind of boring to hear every year, especially since I have no idea what the words mean, but it's kind of nostalgic as well? And then we all put our lights around the tablet one by one. We tell Maxwell about the people we love, both alive and dead, and say a prayer for those we've lost, and then finally we have a big feast with all of us together, even a chair reserved for the big guy himself!"

Maxwell had never been one to crave the attention of others. In fact, he'd requested for his vessel to be in an inconspicuous place out of the way himself. A mortal overreliance on spirits would only be troublesome, he'd said. He'd agreed to raise up the city only after a long discussion on Mithos' plans to end the war and improve half-elven conditions by himself. As a solution, it was like merely putting pressure on a wound before bandaging it. It was never supposed to last this long. Right now, Maxwell must be very disappointed in Mithos.

Mithos discarded that derailed train of thought and returned to his original conclusion that the festival must not be for the summon spirit's sake, but for the people of the city. A welcome full of warmth and cheer for those denied it by the rest of the world. Remembering the unfortunate casualties of its cruelty, but keeping an eye ever towards a more hopeful future.

"...My sister would have loved it," he mumbles.

Flames of bitter envy flicker at the sight of another community barred to the two of them, but they hold no heat anymore. He'd suggested they stay there, when Maxwell raised Exire into the sky, but Martel stroked his hair and told him their work wasn't done yet as she looked past the horizon. She couldn't leave a job half done; she wouldn't rest until the world accepted everyone.

"I know it won't be the same, but you should come see it sometime."

When he looks at the horizon now, all he sees are the ashes of the bridges he's burned.

"I'd have to check with my guardian."

For a while they stand there in silence, the only sounds the wind whipping around their faces and the quiet breaths they both take. The girl has taken to resting her head on her arms, folded on top of the railing, mercifully still but for the tapping of her foot. Mithos hasn't moved, one hand clasped firmly around smooth metal as if its feeble strength could prevent him from making another disastrous mistake.

Then the door slams open and Genis staggers in, his skin shiny with sweat, gasping for breath.

Both Genis and the girl exchange a few confused looks while he recovers. He makes several attempts to speak, but aborts them all, visibly nauseated. Mithos instead detaches his hand from the railing and leans his back against it as casually as he can muster. He knows what it must have looked like to Genis, knows why he exerted himself to climb up here. But he didn't do anything wrong, so he has no reason, much less desire to look guilty or apologetic. Instead he folds his arms and schools his face to look as bored as he possibly can while he waits for Genis to be able to get enough air into his lungs to start rambling an explanation.

And ramble he does. "I'm sorry, Mithos! I didn't _want_ to not trust you, but you were gone for so long and the door was open even though I thought it was locked before? Both of you were gone, and then I thought I saw someone moving up here and I just didn't know what to think so I just ran, I didn't even think about it -"

"Oh, will you just be quiet, Genis," Mithos interrupts before the boy makes himself faint with exertion.

Genis' mouth clamps shut and he looks at Mithos with big eyes filled with concern. His skin is still colored with a sickly pallor, so Mithos makes his way over to judge if the boy's capable of staying upright or if he'll end up having to drag him.

"Nothing happened. She took me up for some fresh air and we talked. That's all."

Genis takes a shaky step forward, then decides that that was apparently all the exercise he can manage and drops his head against Mithos' chest, latching on to his sleeve as if it's the only thing keeping him upright. For all Mithos knows, it may well be. He gives a deep, exasperated sigh. Dropping the boy would be more trouble than it's worth.

"I have no intention of dishonoring our agreement," he says, some frustration in his voice that after all his pretty words, Genis was so quick to doubt him after all, even though if their positions had been reversed he would have never allowed things to progress this far in the first place. "I have no need or interest in keeping secrets from you. I figured out she's actually from Exire, expressed minor interest in it as a half-elven safe haven, and she invited me over for a festival. Nothing more."

He looks over his shoulder for the girl to confirm, which she does with a violent nod that sent her hair whipping up and down with enough force to knock a man unconscious. "Yeah! Oh, and since you're a half-elf, too, if you wanna come, you're welcome, too?" She seems to have more to say from the breath sticks in her throat and the way she runs her hand through her fringe, but whatever it is, it doesn't seem forthcoming, and Mithos doesn't have the patience for it anyway.

He returns his head to a more comfortable position and pries Genis off him, finding with some disappointment that he still needs some more stabilization. His fingers are no longer stretching awkward shapes into Mithos' sleeves, but his legs are still wobbly enough that he keeps Mithos' arm in his grasp.

"If I did have a desire to go, you'd have know about it soon enough," he says flatly. "As it is, on all accounts relating to the girl, I believe I've made myself clear."

Genis straightens himself out so he can fully take in the girl's reaction; her thumb and forefinger pressed together in a circle in front of her, and a big grin on her face that doesn't reach her eyes. "Yep! Crystal. Rejected on all fronts!"

Genis twitches when he hears this, the fingers curled around Mithos' arm tightening their grip, and the boy leans past him. Despite facing the other way, Mithos can _hear_ his sappy, idealistic expression as he says, "I think, if you can keep finding things you can talk with each other about, maybe you'll still be able to be just friends?"

The girl gives a chuckle at that, and it sounds moderately genuine. "Maybe!" she admits. Mithos just shakes his head and starts to pull Genis back towards the stairs. After he's closed the door behind him, she talks again, mumbling quiet enough to herself that one without augmented hearing wouldn't be able to tell. "But romantically, I never even stood a chance..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually watched a bit of the anime the other day and practically choked at the Ozette flu sidequest part. Mithos and Genis in a field of flowers, Mithos monologuing about his tragic past and getting creepily close to Genis in an attempt to manipulate his feelings (but possibly due to a genuine desire for connection hidden deep inside???). It was beautiful, I love it. Mithos is the og trash baby.
> 
> It's been ages since I last played Phantasia, so I hope the way I characterized ponytail girl isn't too far off from how Arche is in the game. And I hope that regardless of how close it is, that I've crafted an enjoyable side character, especially since this scene sets up very well for one of those traditional festival scenes where the main pairing see each other in yukatas for the first time and watch fireworks together... So we're probably gonna see more of her!


	9. Dramatic As Always, I See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mithos gives his report and disagrees with Yuan and Kratos over its implications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there's some talk of suicidal ideation in here. Nothing that goes further than the game itself, but the depression tag is on this fic for a reason.

"...In summary, it was all a terrible waste of time for everyone involved, most of all myself," Mithos finishes relaying the past months to his former friends, current wardens, and downs the remains of his tea.

Yuan quietly sips his own, peering tiredly over the rim of his cup and makes no attempt to dignify Mithos' words with a response.

"It sounds like you're making an attempt to blend in," Kratos mumbles, a paternal frown to his brows. Mithos wants to slap it off his face. "That's good. Honestly, I'd be more concerned if you had accepted her feelings."

Yuan scoffs into his cup. Did he think Mithos incapable of using his charm to toy with people? Unwilling? If only he knew. Mithos ignores him to deny him the satisfaction of riling him up. Instead, he makes a big show of rolling his eyes at Kratos.

"I'm not quite bored enough to resort to something _that_ inane for my entertainment."

" _Right_ ," Yuan drawls. If it was possible to sound more sarcastic, Mithos wouldn't know how.

Mithos sets his cup down hard, the sharp clattering noise dampened only slightly by the thick fog of mana in the air as the handle breaks clean off when cup and saucer collide. He has to take a deep breath to stop himself from flinging the pottery scrap at the cause of his bad mood. "If you're suggesting that I _am_ , I'd urge you to reconsider."

Yuan's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with tension while his mouth remains a sharp, straight line. To be on the other side of his condescension hurts Mithos more than any physical blow, a feeling he'd take to his grave.

"Of course not. You'll have your amusement in testing the limits of our patience for some time yet." Yuan sets his cup down, delicate to such an extent it's obvious he's trying to prove a point. "I was merely amused that Kratos could even consider that you _might_ accept her feelings, as doing so and toying with them would preclude you from doing the same with those of someone _else_."

"I think you underestimate my skills, Yuan." With his most convincing gentle smile, Mithos crushes the cup handle in his hand and lets the pieces fall on the table. "I could have anyone in that school wrapped around my little finger."

Yuan takes a sharp inhale of breath, ready to give another of his bitter retorts, but Kratos places his hands down on the table in front of him with enough force to shake it, and Yuan stills.

"Yuan. Would you get us some more tea and a new cup for Mithos, please."

The two men exchange a tense look, but Yuan relents. He stands up quickly, his posture rigid as he marches into another room. When he's left, Kratos exhales.

"I'm sure he doesn't doubt your skills, but it's best if you don't use them. On anyone." He looks pained, as if this conversation is causing physical strain. It is, to some extent. Mithos' own muscles are pulled taut in his attempts to restrain himself, and Kratos likely feels the same.

"If you don't want to deal with this, you shouldn't have forced me to go along with your idealistic love and peace horseshit." Mithos leans over the table, the mask of fake pleasantness still covering his face. The palm he puts his weight on grinds the remains of his cup handle into dust. "It's not too late to fix that mistake."

Kratos shakes his head. His frown deepens, but there's no anger in it, only sadness. "We're all tired, Mithos," he says, and when Mithos looks into his eyes, he does see all four thousand years of futile struggle. "But we all started this. We need to see it through. We need to atone for what we've done. All of us. You can't atone if you're dead."

"I see you've been spending time with the pretty words of that boy of yours," Mithos bites. He allows his face to mold itself into a sneer once more and he leans back in his seat. "I understand perfectly well. Now that you've declawed me, you're going to sit back and twiddle your thumbs as if it has nothing to do with you anymore. You always did take the easy way out, Kratos."

The fire in Kratos' eyes lights and he responds immediately. "I understand your frustration, Mithos. You're right that I've been cowardly in the past. But right now?" He makes eye contact, and Mithos doesn't think he's seen the man as alive in thousands of years. Maybe even since they were negotiating the peace treaty. Full of purpose, of intent, of conviction. " _You're_ the one who wants to take the easy way out."

Mithos doesn't have any fire of his own to counter with. "...And?" Cold eyes, sickly green, lock on to warm, burning brown. "My sister was taken from me, my friends have abandoned me, and I've been made to give up my ambitions. I'm done fighting. Is it any surprise I want to die? I have nothing left."

Kratos' hands curl around his cup. He glances at it for a second, appearing to consider something, then shakes his head again. "I thought the same. But Lloyd is right when he says we need to see the world he's creating."

"I said I wasn't going to fight anymore. I won't interfere, or do anything else drastic. I'll play along." Mithos shrugs. "After all. I'm not allowed to act on my desires anymore."

The heavy scent of herbs precedes Yuan into the room and he sets a new cup down in front of Mithos. "Dramatic as always, I see. As long as you keep it to monologues, I suppose we can tolerate it."

If Yuan wants a monologue, he'll get one. "Yes, yes, I'll roll over politely, watch quietly as a new generation of idealists see their dreams die." He raises his arms in a sarcastically magnanimous gesture, lets one of Yggdrasill's imperious smiles curve his mouth. "I'll wait patiently as they succumb to age one by one while the hearts of humans and elves remain as stubbornly closed to one another until at last even Genis feels the hope drain away from within him. And when he, too, gets pulled under the inevitable tides of fate without achieving anything -"

“What, you’ll establish a Church in _his_ name?” Yuan interrupts. If it wasn’t for the grave set of his face, Mithos would have thought he was riling him up again. Despite the mocking tone, it almost seems like Yuan seriously thinks he might.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mithos scoffs. His arms drop to his sides like those of a puppet whose strings were cut. “Why in the world would I do _that_?”

“You don’t know how to let go.”

“There's nothing to suggest I have any inclination of holding on to someone like _him_.”

“He convinced you to surrender.”

“There were nine of them!” Mithos shouts as he makes a sweeping arm movement towards Kratos, who sits motionlessly in his chair, looking for all the world as if he's trying to swallow his own tongue.

“But you only ever sacrificed yourself for one.”

Mithos’ eyes grow wide and he takes in a deep breath, ready to throw white-hot death at the next person to speak. Of course Lloyd or one of his friends told Kratos about the worst mistake he ever made, and Kratos told Yuan everything, as long as it had to do with him. Mithos considers how he'll respond to this embarrassment, and given the kind of person he is, there's only one answer. He'll turn the embarrassment, the betrayal he feels into fuel, and burn it to survive. He’ll last out this blasted agreement, ensure his _beloved_ former friends do as well, and afterwards, he’ll kill them both with his own hands.

That resolution returns his clarity to him. He finds he's gotten to his feet sometime during their back-and-forth, and it would feel like admitting defeat to sit down again. He still doesn’t know why exactly he had protected Genis, or why he couldn’t fight him with his full strength, but the boy wasn’t anywhere close to Martel’s level of importance to him. He couldn’t be.

“He just reminds me of myself, I suppose,” Mithos says, shaking his head. “He's an intelligent half-elf who grew up with just his sister and ended up embroiled in a global conflict. I must have just taken pity on him.” His voice was less shaky than his argument, though that was hardly a challenging task.

Yuan snorts, an aggravating sound with which the man implied he knew more than him, and thought it was _funny_.

“Mithos, you don’t _have_ pity,” he says flatly. “You think he’s interesting, and because you don’t do _anything_ halfway - whether it’s learning magic, or stopping a war, or loving your sister - you make your entire world revolve around him.”

“Do you have any actual _evidence_ for these baseless accusations?”

“You went to boarding school with him. You share a room. Classes. The two of you are rarely seen apart.”

Yuan looks at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that this means that Genis  _must_ be _important_ to him, even though Mithos had clearly explained the logic behind it before, and all other options were off the table.

“We all agreed it was a rational decision. No expheres or blasted company politics, ruins, or either of _you_ two. There’s nothing else left.”

“You signed up to his exact classes.”

“We have the same interests!”

Yuan smugly folds his arms, as if this somehow proves _his_ argument.

“I don’t have to listen to this bull,” Mithos hisses and he stomps out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Local four-thousand-year-old boy finally enters puberty, argues with dads.
> 
> Kratos tries so hard to make things right, while Yuan is doing his best vodka aunt impression.


End file.
